


Five times James Acaster and Josh Widdicome 'Cabedged' Each Other (and how they found love along the way)

by thinlizzy2



Category: British Comedy RPF
Genre: Cabbages, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Just so many cabbages, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: James Acaster's life is going pretty well.  His career is taking off, he's got devoted fans and he's a lot closer to famous than he was last year.  There are really only three things getting him down:1)  People keep inserting unwanted cabbages into his life.2)  He's desperately in love with his best friend who he's pretty sure doesn't feel the same way.3)  Really, it's alotof cabbage...





	1. Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Biscuit Lion (cookiethelion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethelion/gifts).



> Written for Biscuit Lion for Fandom 5K 2018.
> 
> Biscuit Lion, I was so excited to see these two nominated as friends when I signed up and even more excited to get your letter that said you were also interested in them as a couple! I've chosen to write them that way, and I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Thank you for your wonderful prompts.
> 
> I've played fast and loose with timelines here, as well as geography and probably the mechanics of recording a radio show. Any and all information about cabbages is entirely accurate though. I clearly used my research time wisely.

When it works, it works. 

 

James isn't the kind of comedian who blames the crowd when a gig goes wrong. He's the performer; it's his job to bring the laughs. But there's no denying that Josh Widdicombe is the sort of perfect audience that insecure performers dream of. Josh is already chortling away as soon as James even mentions the _idea_ of getting "cabedged", and by the time he explains that Dave's son was upset by the the fact that James didn't retaliate with cabbage in _his_ bed or something similar, Josh is literally wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. James builds on that, following the laughs and hitting all the right notes hard, again and again. By the time he gets to the end of the story, he knows he's struck oil with this particular scrape; the audience is going to go nuts when they hear this. 

 

Maybe this could be a decent bit for a live show, James thinks, if other people like this story as much as Josh does. It could catch on. 

 

High on the heady rush of a good set and not ready for the evening to end, he invites Josh to grab a beer afterwards. The conversation moves around a lot, ranging from Josh's upcoming appearance on _Cats Does Countdown_ to James' material for his newest Edinburgh show. And yet it keeps making it way back to the cabbage and what James might do for revenge. By the time Josh has outlined a complicated, multi-step plan to weaponise Tesco's, James is both confident that he's hit on a winning piece and so damn sick of talking about brassicas. 

 

"Mate, what do I have have to do to get you off the whole cabbage thing? Seriously, I'm up for any other topic of conversation so long as it's not green, leafy or commonly featured in Russian cuisine." 

 

He senses a change in the air as soon as he speaks. It's subtle, and for a moment James wonders if he's imagining it. Then Josh lifts his brows. "How about 'the complex yet irresistible sexuality of the modern British male?" 

 

James draws a deep breath. It's been a while since anything has happened between them, and he'd been starting to worry that it was over. It probably _should_ be; James is not especially good at being a friend with benefits or a fuck buddy or whatever the current term for it is. His stupid feelings have a tendency to get in the way and he knows that Josh isn't looking to be anyone's boyfriend anytime soon. But it's always so _good_ with them, even when it's confusing as hell. And it's 11:35 on a Wednesday night and James has nowhere to be in the morning. So he puts a hand on Josh's thigh under the table and feels his muscles twitch. 

 

So, Josh had been a bit nervous about asking. That helps, somehow. 

 

"A bit of a jump there." He slides his hand upwards. "But why not? At least it doesn't stink when it gets warm." 

 

"Unless you do it right?" Josh smirks and James doesn’t even try to hold back his groan. 

 

"You're absolute rubbish at dirty talk. You know that right?" He gestures for the bill. "New rule. My bedroom is officially a vegetable _and_ speech-free zone. 

 

Josh makes a stricken face. "Not even courgettes?"

 

There's a certain charm in making out in the back of the taxi, like they're kids at school or lovers in some Hugh Grant style rom-com who absolutely cannot keep their hands off each other. It sure as hell beats the times when they'd been so broke that they'd had to resort to stolen little touches on the tube or, even worse, on buses. The cab driver keeps looking in the rear view mirror like she thinks they might be those blokes she knows from the telly but at least she's unlikely to suddenly morph into a group of yobs shouting homophobic slurs. James tips her rather well for that alone and she drives off happy. 

 

Still, he thinks as he fumbles with the key and Josh kisses and bites at the back of his neck, there was a kind of luxury in those bus and pot noodle days that they don't have anymore. They'd been dirt poor back then, waiting tables and tending bars and using every spare second to either refine and practice their material or seek out a new festival or open mic night. There had been plenty of reasons for why they didn't have steady partners or defined relationships or real homes. Those had been the days of trying to cook leftovers that had never been meant to meet into some kind of nutritional paste and there was one night when James had legitimately slept in a bush because he'd missed his train and couldn't afford a hotel. His singlehood had just been the assumed default. But he's successful enough now that it raises some questions. And he's getting increasingly flummoxed about how to answer his Nan's queries on why he hasn't settled down without explaining that he's never met anyone he likes to shag as much as that odd hobbity bloke from off the radio. 

 

Also, said odd hobbity bloke has made it pretty damn clear he's not looking for a serious relationship at the moment. They both did, back when it started. And James has got the feeling that it's simply too late to go asking for a renegotiation. 

 

Josh's voice drags him back to reality. "Is your own front door especially challenging for you, James?" Josh nips James's ear in frustration. "Should we call a professional locksmith or something?" 

 

James waves him off like a housefly. "Well, if you'd leave my bloody neck alone I might have a bit more luck! Do you want to get in, or not?" 

 

Josh smacks his arse, then grabs a handful and squeezes. "Oh, I want to get in. That's the problem." 

 

James laughs in spite of himself and finally manages the lock. They pretty much fall through the door right before Josh yanks down his trousers and exposes him to the world, so he considers himself fairly lucky there. 

 

Josh is gone when James wakes up in the morning, and that's not a surprise. James vaguely remembers him saying something about a table read in the morning or something similar, and they've never been the snuggling in the morning types anyway. Still, it's hard to hold back the disappointment as he rolls over onto the empty side of his crumpled sheets. Looking for something to hold on to, he pulls the pillow Josh had been using into his arms. 

 

It's surprisingly, distressingly, wet. 

 

Baffled, James squeezes it in his hands and hears the damp crunch from within, Disbelieving, he shakes the pillow out and, in spite of his solitary state he can't help but succumb to laughter as the limp, smelly leaves of cabbage fall from the pillowcase into his lap.


	2. Bok Choy

James heads to Australia and New Zealand in the spring. It's pretty awesome. The show he's come to debut is frequently sold out and even wins an award, the people are cool, and even the incredibly determined wildlife somehow fails to kills him. There's only one downside, really, and that's the fact that fucking Josh Widdicombe's fucking radio fucking show is somehow not only available here but also inexplicably popular. And James had been far too right about the damn "cabedging" striking a chord with listeners. 

 

At first, he'd just assumed that cabbages were a 'thing', down under, like mangos in Thailand or deep fried Mars bars in Glasgow. The basket of fruit and cabbage waiting in his dressing room had been confusing as hell, but he'd written it off as a local quirk. But the cabbage waiting on the pillow at his hotel – looking, after a long hard day, like a mint from hell – had tipped him off that perhaps this might be becoming a problem for him. And by the time he wanders into the loo and finds the box of tissues perfectly, lovingly, stuffed with cabbage leaves, he knows full well that he's in trouble. 

 

"This is _your_ fault, mate", he informs Josh over Skype, munching on some admittedly delicious cabbage rolls that had been sent to him by an anonymous admirer. "'Come on my show', he says. 'It'll be good exposure', he says. And now my whole damn life is cabbages and I want to know what you plan to do about it." 

 

Josh's face is purple with laughter. "You've got to come back on, James! Folks are going to love this. The Return of the Cabedging – it'll be brilliant." 

 

James rolls his eyes. He'd never admit it but it feels damn good to talk to Josh. They're both busy; James's tour schedule is punishing and Josh is filming the first season of his very own TV show. But for reasons neither one of them seems partiularly inclined to examine, it feels important that they still make time to talk to each other. "You think that's something? Do a search on Twitter for #cabedged." 

 

He watches Josh press the keys and then give a genuine howl of laughter. "Oi oi savoy?!?" 

 

"They're leaving cabbages in my dressing rooms at every single venue. Sometimes they're out in the open, but sometimes they hide them. So I get lured into a false sense of security and think this time I'm safe. Or it's dying down. The cabedging is ending and I can finally go about my life again." 

 

"Finally it's safe to go back to the produce aisle?" 

 

In all fairness, James hasn't bought a fresh vegetable in over a year and he doubts Josh has either, but that's not the point. "But then I'll decide I fancy a water or a packet of crisps, so I head for the minibar and the only thing in there is cabbage! Or my clothes will come up from the cleaners and I get the trousers on, put my hands in the pockets and -" 

 

"Cabbage." Josh looks absolutely thrilled with the whole situation. 

 

" _You_ need to take responsibility for your part in all this, Josh. You need to make restitution. Otherwise I'm warning you – I might sue." 

 

James feels rather odd after they sign off. He knows it's one hundred percent normal for a bloke to miss his friends a tad when he's away, but if he's honest with himself then he knows he's being a bit too moony over Josh. Talking to his other friends doesn't do this to him and he is in no mood whatsoever to think about what that means for him. 

 

He could go out, he thinks. He could even try to pull. There are plenty of options in Sydney. There are pretty girls and good looking men from all over the world, sun-browned locals looking to mingle with tourists and open-minded backpackers eager to make some fun holiday mistakes. He could go find someone charming, bring them back to his room and let them shag the melancholy right out of him. 

 

He sighs and reaches for the remote control. He's not going anywhere and he knows it. 

 

He wakes up in the morning with a stiff neck, the telly blaring and a plate of half-congealed cabbage rolls sitting on the sofa beside him. He moans and heads for the loo. 

 

He feels a bit better once he's had a shower and has made at least a little leeway into a pot of coffee. He's just sat down with his material for the evening and his notes when he gets a call from the front desk. The voice on the other end of the line informs him that he's got a delivery waiting downstairs and, anticipating something from his manager, he tells her to send it up. 

 

The gift basket that arrives is nothing short of gorgeous. Shiny cellophane and a glossy ribbon top off a fantastic selection of goodies. James digs into the assortment, pulling out chocolate truffles, a split of champagne and some plump nectarines to discover the heart of the luxurious selection: a single, perfect cabbage. 

 

It takes him several minutes to stop laughing before he can read the card. 

 

_**Dear James,** _

__

_**Terribly savoy to have had a hand in causing you pain. Please keep in mind I'm still a bit green at this whole media thing. And sometimes I act without thinking; I guess it's just a character slaw. I hope you'll decide to forgive and forget after you've had a little rest – maybe take a napa and get back to me?** _

__

_**All my love,** _

_**Josh**_

 

Once he's finally managed to stop howling with laughter, James has a rather lovely breakfast of the very best of the basket and he packs several other choice edibles in his suitcase to take with him on the road. The cabbage, of course, goes directly into the rubbish. The card, however, he zips into the lining of his bag, knowing it'll be safe and sound there.


	3. Red

Okay, he was never exactly the loser that Jimmy Carr loves to insist he is on 8 Out Of 10 Cats, but the idea of Jon Richardson as somebody's _husband_ is still bit of a shock to the system. Their friend doesn't even seem to be able to believe it himself, even as he's telling them his proposal story. James hugs him tightly and offers his congratulations to the rather unexpected bit of genuinely good news. 

 

Since old habits die hard, Jon is naturally fretful. "You'll definitely be able to make it, right? Lucy's got loads of friends and a huge family; I really don't want my side to look empty compared to hers." 

 

Josh snorts and cuffs Jon on the back of the head. "Not to worry, Jon. Her people will probably think she's doing charity work by marrying you. They'll love her more than ever for it. 

 

James can't help but laugh, but he promises Jon again that he'll be there. On their way out, James sees Russell Howard getting out of a cab across the road, carrying a six-pack of no doubt celebratory beers. They wave as he passes but James is glad that Josh doesn't suggest going back in to share a drink. 

 

 It's been more than two months since they've seen each other and he's missed Josh far more than he wants to admit.

 

"Jon's got more mates than he'll ever realize", Josh remarks. "But he wouldn't be Jon without something to panic about." 

 

It's true, but he also seems less anxious than James has ever seen him before. Jon has his worries and he always will but they seem to be undercut with a layer of calm now, a newfound realization that his life might actually be good. "Hey, can I ask you something? Do you think you might ever want to do that? A wedding and a house in the lake district and all that? A bit down the road, I mean." 

 

Josh looks horrified. "You've got to be kidding me, James. You're asking me like _this?_ You're not even down on one knee and where the hell's my ring?" 

 

James grins into his mock-scowling face and blows him a air kiss. Josh Widdicombe is adorable, and the fact that he knows he's adorable doesn't make him any less so. "You wanna stay at mine tonight?" 

 

A warm hand closes over James's. "I absolutely do." He gets a real kiss this time, no air between them.

 

Usually that's all the prelude they need for shagging but James is feeling weirdly hesitant to bring the talking part of the day to an end. So they go and get a curry and linger over scraps of naan and cold Kingfisher beers as London rushes past them. Josh discusses his new project, a complicated game series hosted by Greg Davies that sounds like equal parts brilliance and madness. James waits until they're nearly done to bring out his own good news; he's found a literary agent and he's shopping the idea of a book of his classic scrapes to various publishers. "Nothing's definite yet", James tells Josh. "But there's definitely a lot of interest." 

 

Josh grins from ear to ear. "That's brilliant, James!" He leans forward and kisses James full on the mouth, and James feels his cheeks warming. "You've got to dedicate it to me. You started talking about the scrapes on my show, after all. Promise you will." 

 

"You don't think that'll look a little bit suspicious?" They've never bothered to hide that they're whatever the hell they are to each other, but they've certainly never put anything in writing. And people generally don't dedicate books to their casual shags. 

 

"Nah." Josh waves away his concerns. "People already suspect you're a lonely saddo with no one special. No worries." 

 

James laughs, because of course he does. But the jibe cuts deeper than he thought it would. He calls for the bill. 

 

There's a fruit stand outside, just closing up for the night. James stops for a bit of a browse, contemplating the remaining bananas and wondering if enough of them are unbruised to make a purchase worthwhile. He's about to decide they aren't when he hears Josh call out. 

 

"Oi, James! Think fast!" 

 

He doesn't turn quite in time. The red cabbage bounces off his shoulder and falls to the pavement. He gives one middle finger to the vegetable and one to Josh. Josh snorts. "I expected you'd be better at dodging them by now." 

 

"I'll pay for that", Josh tells the impassive seller. She nods and gathers it up into a plastic bag. 

 

"You're going to have to eat it", James informs him. "All by your damn self. I am _all_ done with cabbage." It's very true. The flow of cabbages has eased off slightly in recent weeks, although a new one still tends to make its way into his life with distressing regularity. But it doesn't matter. He forced so many damn cabbages down his gullet during the height of the cabedging that he's pretty sure he'll still be sick of them in his eighties. 

 

"Take a look at this!" Josh waves something in the air. James blinks. It's a collection of brussels sprouts clinging to a branch. He's only ever seen them loose before. "It's like seeing budgies in the wild or something!"

 

"They keep longer like that", the seller informs them. "As long as they're on the branch, they'll be good for months so long as they're kept cool. 

 

"I've got to get this", Josh declares. He hands them to the woman. "Tiny cabbages! I'll put them somewhere safe and have enough ammunition to cabedge you with for a year, James." 

 

It suddenly occurs to James that it's probably true. There are only about eight or nine sprouts on the branch, but with how often they get to see each other these days that could very well last a year or more. Hell, there's a very good chance that half those tiny cabbages will rot by the time Josh gets the chance to use them to ruin James's day. And the thought of that makes James suddenly feel so tired. 

 

He and Josh used to see each other nearly every day when he first moved to London. They'd meet up at someone's grubby one-room flat at some point in the day and write, brainstorming new material and trying ideas out on each other and whoever else happened to be around.  The transition to the pub was as natural as the sunset and then it was just a matter of drinking whatever shitty beer was on tap until their money ran out. And at that point there was nothing else to do but slip down the nearest alleyway so they could kiss and pull at each other's clothes and rut against each other with a desperation that made it feel like they hadn't just done the exact same thing the night before. 

 

And all that's changed is that he gets to do it less often now. What is he even doing, really? Jon Richardson, of all people, has somehow found time to meet a woman, fall in love and get engaged, and James is still living shag to shag with Josh and pretending it's enough. Pretending that it's ever going to be anything more instead of becoming steadily less. 

 

He waits until Josh has finished paying and suggests hailing a cab back to James's. "Actually, do you mind if I take a rain check? I'm not feeling great all of a sudden." 

 

He tries to sound casual but he senses that Josh can tell something's up. "You sure?" 

 

"Yeah, sorry. Prawn masala, you know?" James gives what he hopes is a good impression of a grimace and waves his hand for a taxi. He slides in before Josh can ask any further questions. "Enjoy the cabbage though, okay?" 

 

He's grateful that the driver pulls away from the kerb before he can change his mind.


	4. Savoy

Josh calls. Of course he does. He's a good, decent person and his friend is clearly going through some kind of _thing_ , so he calls and he texts and he even comes by and presses the buzzer for James's flat for a really long time until old Mrs. Fadly in 3C comes down to tell him to kindly leave before she calls the police and also to get a haircut. Finally, he sends a long rambling email at 3am asking if there's something he did wrong and how he can possibly fix it followed by another long rambling email at noon apologizing for emailing while drunk. It's James who's the dick. He ignores messages and lets calls go to voicemail. He can't quite manage to ignore the emails, not when Josh sounds so unhappy. But he limits himself to a brief _Hey mate, sorry for the radio silence – just really busy right now. I'll get in touch when things slow down_ and then forces himself to send it before adding _love James_. 

 

Because the thing is, he _does_ love Josh. There's no more hiding that from himself, not when he's sick with missing him and waking up so damn happy after nights of dreaming about him. He loves Josh, not like as a friend or a convenient shag or anything else simple and easy to deal with. He's in love with Josh Widdicombe, and that just plain sucks. 

 

He tries to get over it. He goes out and flirts halfheartedly. He has options, of course. He's become reasonably well-known for more than just cabbages; no one with a fanbase ever needs to sleep alone unless they want to. But the truth is that the only person he wants to be sleeping with is _Josh_ , and unless he can have that, every night, he'd rather deal with the empty bed. 

 

When he absolutely can't help himself, he watches TV. That new Greg Davies series that Josh told him about ends up being named _Taskmaster_ and is something of a hit. James can only avoid watching it for so long; he's being invited onto _Mock the Week_ more and more often and it's important for the panelists to know about what's popular. Seeing Josh makes his heart hurt but it's still hard not to smile when he watches the damn adorable dork try to paint a picture while riding a horse, empty a bath with a bucket or do any of the other absurd tasks that are assigned to him. His jaw drops open when Josh reveals the tattoo of Greg's name on his foot and for an insane moment he wonders if something is going on between the two of them. He forces the thought out of his head. First of all, a tattoo is a way more permanent gesture than the sensible Josh would ever make towards a brand-new lover and second, the idea hurts far too much to bear thinking about. 

 

He is aware that he's spiraling and that the way that he's living isn't good for his mental health. He simply doesn't care at the moment. 

 

There are some good moments though. He's booking bigger and better venues than ever before; he's in high demand as a show guest and there's talk of a special. His book ends up being the subject of a bidding war and when his advance for it comes in he finds himself staring spellbound at the check, unable to fathom that a respected publishing house just paid that many zeros for the story of _his_ life. 

 

It's hard though, because the whole premise of the book is based around his classic scrapes - the stories he told on Josh's radio show. He puts off dealing with that material for as long as possible, filling in what he thinks the gaps will be and creating some new content. But he gets to the point where he can't delay any further so he places a bottle of gut-rotting scotch close by and settles in with his recordings. 

 

Josh's voice in his ears is about as much of a kick in the balls as he thought it would be and hearing the other man describing their chats as his favorite part of the show definitely stings more than a little. But by the time he's finished detailing his misguided evening out at the Kettering Board Games Club, he finds himself smiling. Josh is laughing in his ears, so warm and so open and so ready to be entertained by James. He never considered before how well Josh listened, what close attention he paid to each of James's stories. But it's all there in his appreciative chuckles, his ready interjections, his genuine curiosity about why James would revisit his old primary school or make an excursion to a porcelain exhibit. This isn't a radio host glad to have a break from monologuing; it's a man hanging on to every word of someone he genuinely likes. 

 

He listens to himself make a joke about lounging in bed during the broadcast and hears Josh lower his voice to call him a cad. He misses this, how they used to tease each other and the way they would flirt regardless of who was listening. They flirted on the _radio_ , for fuck's sake. No matter what their relationship had or hadn't been, he hadn't been Josh's dirty little secret. In fact, as he listens to the undisguised concern in Josh's voice as he describes his night sleeping rough in Basingstoke, it's pretty obvious to anyone listening that Josh cares about him far more than he ever thought. 

 

Then he gets to the story about the fucking cabedging and he breaks down. And somewhere mid-breakdown he realizes he knows what to do. 

 

Once he finally calms down from an embarrassingly noisy crying jag, he heads for town. Luckily, he lives near an all-night grocery, so it's a quick stop to make his purchase and then he hails a cab. 

 

He's fortunate that Josh still lives in a relatively accessible second floor flat. This would be a lot more difficult if he needed to scale the walls of some gated estate. 

 

He aims his first projectile at what he estimates to be Josh's bedroom window. It hits with a soft thud, but there's no response from inside. Fighting back worry about where Josh might be at two o'clock in the morning, he throws a second. This little green sphere is harder and the sound it makes is more pronounced. After a moment, James sees a light flicker on behind the glass but there's no sign of movement. He tosses a third, but before it can connect the window slides open and the vegetable sails past Josh into the bedroom. 

 

Josh blinks in surprise. "James? What the hell?" He ducks down and picks up the little ball. "A brussels sprout? Really?" 

 

"It's the smallest cabbage", James explains. "I thought red ones would probably break your window." 

 

Josh, pretty sensibly, decides not to explore that further. "Where the hell have you been, James? Why won't you talk to me? You must know I've been scared as shit about you. And you won't answer any of my-" 

 

"I'm in love with you." James hadn't necessarily meant to shut Josh up; he had just needed to say it before he lost his nerve. But Josh falls silent instantly and James finds himself unable to stop talking. "I've been in love with you for ages. And I figured that I had to be giving you enough clues for you to sort it out if you wanted to, so I thought that either you had and you didn't feel the same or maybe you didn't care enough to even think about it. But then I listened to some of our old stuff on the radio, and then I thought maybe _you_ might be in love with _me_ , and I was just too thick to figure it out. And, sorry mate, but you're plenty thick too, so maybe that's where we kept going wrong. And I know we said ages ago that we'd keep it casual, but I can't do it anymore and maybe you've changed your mind too, unless I've got it all wrong, in which case-" 

 

He's cut off as his own brussels sprout ricochets off his forehead. He would swear it makes a boinging noise. 

 

"Shut up." James isn't sure if Josh is laughing or crying but he thinks it's probably a mixture of both. "And get your gorgeous arse in here." 

 

James takes the stairs two at a time all the way up. Josh is waiting for him on the landing, and James pretty much crashes into him as they press their mouths together and wrap their arms around each other. His little cabbages spill out of the bag unnoticed and roll around at their feet but James doesn't care in the least because Josh Widdicombe is kissing him and Josh Widdicombe _loves_ him and all the cabbages in the world can't hold a candle to that.


	5. Sweetheart

For a while, cabbages become their special joke and they find creative ways to outdo each other with them. James festoons the bedroom of their new flat with cabbage leaves as if they were rose petals and Josh welcomes James home after a long tour by laying seductively on the couch with nothing but some strategically placed cabbage to preserve his modesty. Josh hides cabbage leaves under the suds of a romantic bubble bath and James prepares an all-cabbage dinner for Valentines' Day which is certainly inventive but leaves them both unsexily gassy. 

 

But any good comedian has to know when a bit has gone stale and so they begin to phase out the cabbages. It's getting a bit embarrassing, after all, to be known as the blokes causing the critical coleslaw shortage in London and neither one of them is all that comfortable with how frequently they get random erections in any given produce section. So James poses proudly with a cabbage on the cover of his newly-published book and he shares the story of his revenge against his original cabedger as a follow-up classic scrape on Josh's show. And finally, he makes his peace with young Mick on _Would I Lie to You_ , and it seems like with that the whole thing has been laid to rest. 

 

But classic scrapes are called _classics_ for a reason. It's because they can never really get boring, because they can withstand the test of time, because they somehow manage to stay _good_ , no matter what happens. In a way they're a lot like him and Josh, and that might be the most embarrassingly sappy thought James has ever had. 

 

But nevertheless, on their third Christmas together he hangs his cabbage wreath on the door and rigs up a mistletoe and red cabbage hybrid that he thinks is pretty nifty to hang in the sitting room. He places his sweetheart cabbage angel on top of the tree and carefully wraps the box that contains the most perfect green savoy that James could find, with the most perfect gold ring that he could find lovingly nestled in its leaves. Just to be safe, he runs a line of brussels sprouts between the door and the place under the tree where he's placed the box, because he doesn't want to wait one second longer than necessary for Josh to come home, open it and give James his answer. 

 

He knows that by proposing like this he's potentially opening up the door for a whole lifetime of cabedging. And he can't wait for it to start.


End file.
